


Above All, Pity the Living

by maddog3706



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Resurrection Stone (Harry Potter), Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddog3706/pseuds/maddog3706
Summary: "Draco is stuck on the cusp of life and death, of staying and going. He’s not here or there."Draco is on his deathbed, but he's not sure if he's ready to go yet. Then he remembers a gift Harry gave him before he died.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Above All, Pity the Living

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I really am. I think you know how this ends.
> 
> TW: mentions of death, major character death (not graphic)

It’s only been a year, but Draco misses Harry more than anything. There’s a gaping, Harry-sized hole in his heart, and it hurts more than anything he’s ever experienced.

The worst dementor’s kiss couldn’t equate the pain, Draco thinks.

Every day, he wakes up and Harry isn’t there to rattle around in the kitchen, making an ungodly racket far too early. Harry doesn’t hand him his mug of tea and doesn’t kiss his cheek. They don’t talk mindlessly as Harry skims the Prophet and laughs at unfunny comics in the Quibbler while Draco tackles the crosswords in both.

They don’t move into their studies separately, but with the reassurance that the other is only one shout down the hall. They don’t tease each other as they walk to lunch, don’t laze around the living room, reading or talking or napping or anything in between. They don’t laugh at Draco’s failed attempts to cook dinner or poke at the other’s dessert or sit on the back porch and talk some more until the fireplace is burning low.

Not anymore, at least.

Every day his husband is dead, a little piece of Draco dies with him.

Now, he supposes, it’s his turn. Draco’s healer is getting increasingly worried for him. Draco is ill, he has been for quite a while now, but he can’t quite find it in him to fight. Every time his healer visits, the healer tells him it’s gotten a little worse, but that his body is ready when he is. Draco wonders if he knows.

Draco knows he has enough galleons to pay for the intensive treatment twice over, knows that he could buy himself another twenty years if he wanted to. 

He’s not sure if he wants to.

Some people make him want to stay. His children, James Scorpius, Sirius Severus, and Lily Lyra, have been visiting more often now. Draco thinks they know. James’s kids, Audrey and Claire, are fresh out of Hogwarts and almost entirely oblivious, which Draco prefers.

That being said, some people make him want to go. His mother is waiting for him. Crabbe will get a laugh out of it—Draco and the chosen one, huh? George Weasley, who always had a soft spot for Draco, will be there with his twin, Fred.

But most of all, Harry. Lord, does he miss Harry.

Draco is stuck on the cusp of life and death, of staying and going. He’s not here or there.

Draco coughs again. It’s the ugly, phlegmy kind of cough which he knows means he should be calling a healer, but he doesn’t step towards the fireplace in his big, dark, empty room, which used to be full of light and love. It is now his prison.

Instead, he sits up and checks the time. 2:07 am. He reaches for his bedside table and turns on the light. He thinks maybe he’ll go downstairs to eat something since he hasn’t been doing much of that lately, but he finds himself rifling through his nightstand drawer instead. Then he realizes that it’s Harry’s old drawer. He’s about to turn around and cry himself back to sleep again, but a glint of something metal reflected in the moonlight streaming through the bay window catches his eye. 

_ I open at the close _ , the snitch reads.

I know what this is, Draco thinks. Harry left the resurrection stone in Draco’s possession years ago. Draco should have known that his husband knew his time was coming.

“I think I’m ready to die,” Draco whispers, remembering what Harry told him about his first death. Why couldn’t the second one have been fake, too? For good measure, Draco kisses the snitch.

Two greyish blue figures materialize next to Draco.

Narcissa Malfoy and Harry Potter smile at him. Draco smiles back. Narcissa, looking between Draco and the ghost of Harry, says, “I’ll be quick as I’m sure you two have much to speak about, but Draco, dear, I love you.”

Draco sniffles, not believing what he’s seeing. “I love you too, mum.”

“I trust you. Do not come too soon. Do not come too late. Be wise, my little dragon,” she says. Draco nods, and she fades away.

Harry steps forward. “So soon, love?” the ghost of Harry asks.

A sob wracks through Draco. He wants to stand up and hug his husband and kiss him senseless and make up for all the years they spent hating each other, but he knows it will all come to nothing. He is not gone yet.

“Shh, love,” Harry whispers, trying to wipe the tears away from Draco’s face like he always did, even though he is not solid enough to do so anymore. He settles for resting on the bed next to Draco, not making an imprint on the sheets. Draco wonders, briefly, if he’s losing his mind, but this is exactly how Harry described it.

“I’m only joking. 94 years is a long time. You’ve made it so far,” he says. 

Draco nods, contemplatively. He stares at the ghost. “I know it’s not really you. I know you’ve only come here to convince me to die,” Draco rasps. The ghost of Harry smiles sadly, whirling Draco through years and years of love and life, one snapshot memory after the other. “But oh Merlin, does it look like you,” Draco says, watching as his hand falls easily through the mist of Harry’s shoulder.

“But that’s what you called us for, isn’t it, my love?” ghost Harry asks softly.

Draco nods. “I miss you, and I think James, Sirius, and Lily would understand, but I don’t know how to stop fighting to stay alive, if only halfheartedly. I’ve been fighting to survive since we were sixteen at least…”

“I know. But when the time is truly right, you will know. It will come,” Harry says. “I mean, I’ve done it twice,” he says, grinning.

Draco laughs through his tears. He realizes he hasn’t laughed in a while. “I really do miss you. Every day,” Draco says.

“And we miss you.”

“Who else is there?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not s’posed to reveal too much to the living and all, but… we’re all ready for you when you’re ready. We trust you to make the right decision, baby. Take your time if you need it.”

Draco nods, but he knows that he’s already spent all the time he could ever want, far more than he deserves. 

“You know who’s not there yet? Luna. So if you do join us, remember some Quibbler comics, will you?” Harry asks, standing up.

Draco laughs, deep and loud. “Of course.”

“Excellent. I’ve got to go…”

“I love you so much,” Draco says, tears starting to fall again. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Harry smiles fondly. “I love you, too,” he says, and then he’s gone. Draco coughs, blood this time, and knows what he’s chosen. Deep down, he always knew.

He picks up his favorite quill with an appreciation for everything life has given him. It’s blessed him with too much happiness for a person who made the choices he made, really, but what’s done is done.

At 4:32 am, he ties the letters to his owl and climbs into bed again, feeling strangely calmer than he has in months. He falls asleep quickly.

{O.o.0.o.O}

King’s Cross looks very white and clean. There’s a figure approaching. Draco thinks he knows their gait.

He smiles.

{O.o.0.o.O}

Dear Lily, Sirius, and James,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. I think you knew my time was coming, and more importantly, I did too.

I need you to know that it was not your fault. It was no one’s fault. I was gravely ill and rapidly getting worse. I was old, as Lily so kindly loved to remind me.

You three are my pride and joy, and I have no regrets where it concerns you.

As our old headmaster said: “Do not pity the dead. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love.”

Live with love. Don’t do anything your father and I wouldn’t do (and avoid some of the choices we made as well).

My lawyer has my will.

Your loving father,

Draco L. Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I'm so sorry. I was reading a headcanon the other day about the Resurrection Stone which inspired this, so credits to the people who wrote that post! This is also literally not the fic I was supposed to be working on. Why does this always happen to me?
> 
> I appreciate kudos and comments, and you can find me on Tumblr if you prefer to leave feedback that way: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/justmaddie3706  
> (I don't know how to link stuff here lol)


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